


Of Bars, Batteries, and Beetles

by itchyfingers



Series: Richard and Layla [1]
Category: Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot bunny inspired by the song “Call Your Girlfriend” by Robyn. What happens to the girl who gets the phonecall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Layla didn’t even bother looking at the man who had claimed the stool next to her. “I’m not having sex with you.”

This straightforward pronouncement was met with deep but gentle laughter. “I didn’t think you were going to.”

“Then why are you trying to buy me a drink?” She traced the wet ring her glass had left on the coaster with a fingertip.

“Because you look like your day has been total shite and I thought I would try and cheer you up a little bit.” He gestured to the bartender.

She turned to look at him suspiciously. “Why would you do that? You’re a man.” She drawled the last word out. “Men are jerks.”

“Ah. Boyfriend trouble?” He looked at her curiously. For all her bluster, she looked soft and gentle by nature, rather than bitter. She had a dimple in her cheek and no sign of frown lines.

“Ex. He called me today at work to break up with me over the phone so I couldn’t yell at him.”

He winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “He’s a jerk. And do you know why he’s a jerk?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a  _man_. And men are jerks.”

He nodded in somber agreement. “Right. I had forgotten that.”

“Don’t.” She drained her drink and motioned to the bartender for a refill. “Your life will be much easier if you just remember that simple rule.”

“I’ll try.”

She waved her empty glass at him. “You know what the only redeeming feature about men is?”

“What?”

“They have penises.”

He choked back a laugh as the bartender grabbed her glass from her hand.

She put her head down on the bar and muttered, “Life would be so much easier if penises were detachable.” The bartender set her refilled glass by her and she sat up and took a swallow. “Oh wait!” He could see the light bulb illuminate over her head. “They are! Remind me to stop and get batteries on the way home.”

He sucked his lips between his teeth to keep from laughing loudly at her charming forthrightness. “So why did he break up with your lovely self?”

She squinted her eyes at him and waved a finger in his face. “Don’t you try and flirt with me. You’re a man too, and I know what that makes you.”

“A jerk, yes, I hadn’t forgotten.”

She nodded emphatically. “That’s right.” She paused for a long moment and then continued so softly he could barely hear her. “He’s sleeping with his grad student.”

“Ouch.”

“I know, right? I didn’t think I would get traded in for a younger model when I’m only twenty-seven to begin with, but apparently they fell in love in the jungles of some Indonesian island looking for beetles.”

“Beetles?”

“He’s an entomology professor. Do you want another valuable piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t date people who study insects. It makes them think small is normal.” Her eyes widened somberly as she poked him in the arm to emphasize the importance of this pronouncement.

He laughed. “Well fuck him, who needs him and his beetles anyway?”

“No, don’t fuck him!” She waved her finger at him in warning. “He’s not so great in bed. And he has a small dick. Not that those two things always go together, but seriously, if you’re underendowed, you have to step up the game.” She stressed the last few words.

“I see.”

“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve been properly fucked?”

He bit his lips again to keep a straight face. “No. No idea.”

“Too long. Because he’s too short.” She giggled at her own joke and then looked at him appraisingly. “You are tall,” she said, as if realizing something of great importance.

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you have a big dick?”

He blushed at the blunt question. “I’ve never had any complaints,” he temporized.

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to him. “Why do you look familiar?”

“I’m an actor. You may have seen something I’ve been in.”

He could see her wracking her brain for clues. “Oh, you were in  _The Hobbit_. You’re one of the dwarves. Not the pretty one, his uncle… Thorin!”

“Yes, I’m not the pretty one.” He wasn’t sure how to take that. He never would have used the word pretty to describe himself, but was she saying she found him unattractive?

“Do you know how to fuck a woman, Thorin?”

He coughed as the bourbon burned down the wrong tube. When he recovered, he said, “I enjoy making love to a woman, yes.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you know how to do panting, groaning, sweaty, nails biting into your skin, name screaming, have marks on your skin the next day, leave me limp and exhausted fucking?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened at his confident answer and she looked him up and down slowly, realizing exactly how handsome and large he was. “Good for you. Maybe you are slightly less of a jerk then.”

“I hope I’m not a jerk at all, though I realize that me being a man, of course, makes that impossible.” He smiled at her.

“Have you ever broken up with a woman over the phone?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s a point in your favor. He says he wants to still be friends.”

He took a sip of his bourbon. “What do you think about that?”

“I want to kick him in the ankle.”

“Just the ankle?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

She giggled and looked down at her drink. “Well, maybe other places too.”

He smiled.

“He said he didn’t want to wait until he got back to break up with me because he didn’t want to hurt me anymore.”

“Well, that seems honorable of him.”

“You know what’s honorable?” She sneered the last word as the anger flared in her voice again. “Not cheating on your girlfriend.”

“That is also true.”

“He a jerk and I’m pretty sure he just broke up with me now so I would pack up all his shite for him instead of him having to do it when he got back.”

“You two were living together?”

“For two years, been together for three.”

“How much longer will he be gone?”

She sighed. “Another month.”

“That’s rough.”

“It would be a pretty jerky thing to do to set all his stuff on fire, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him and he noticed tears in her eyes for the first time this evening.

“Probably. But you can probably burn a few things if it makes you feel better.”

She let her eyes roam over his face, trying to figure out why he was there. “Why are you being so nice to me, Thorin?”

“Maybe because I don’t want you thinking all men are jerks.”

“But they are.” She needed to believe that, because if it wasn’t true, then it meant that he really didn’t want her, he wanted someone else.

“Well, how about I want to show you that some men are less of a jerk than others.”

“Maybe.” She looked down at her empty glass. “Did you drink this?”

“No, you did.”

“Are you sure?” A faint slur crept into her voice on the last word. “I don’t remember drinking it.”

He nodded. “And that’s a sure sign that you need to get home.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“No,” and he leaned in so their lips were almost touching, his big blue eyes fixed on hers, “but I could be if you play nice.”

Her mouth fell open a little bit at the hot promise in his eyes and at the rough rasp of his voice along her nerves.

He closed her mouth with one finger under her chin, the rough skin enticing against the delicate flesh of her face. “Now, let’s get you home before you regret tomorrow morning even more than you already will.”

She stood, wobbly on her high heels, and he reached out a hand to steady her. His fingers closed around the soft skin of her upper arm. “Are you alright?” he asked as he stood.

She nodded, but that sent the room spinning. “Maybe I should sit back down.”

“No, let’s get you in a cab.” He helped her out of the bar and hailed a taxi. He helped her in and then got in himself. He looked at her expectantly. “What’s your address?” he finally asked when she didn’t say anything.

“I’m not telling  _you_. I barely know you.”

“You need to tell the cab driver so he can take you home.”

“I don’t know him either! What do you think I am, stupid? This is how women end up murdered in back alleys. I’ve seen  _Sherlock._ ”

He shook his head. “Fine, we’ll go to my flat then.”

“Okay. As long as you don’t know where I live.”

He looked at her in bemusement and wondered what in the world he was getting himself into as he gave his direction to the cabbie. He watched the young woman sitting next to him, all auburn curls and freckles and flushed skin, and he realized he didn’t even know her name. “I’m Richard, by the way.”

“I’m Layla. Richard’s a nice name. Better than Thorin,” she added and she yawned, a wave of exhaustion battering at the last of her willpower. She leaned against him. “You’re pretty nice for a jerk.” She was asleep before he could respond.


	2. Chapter 2

Layla wondered what she had done in her sleep to piss off God so much that he was punishing her by making the sun extra bright. Even with her eyes screwed shut as tightly as possible, it was still unconscionably bright in her room. Screw her room, it was unconscionably bright for being in England. Not for the first time, she wished she lived in an era where she was not expected to rise before ten and then was supposed to spend her morning lounging over tea. She rolled over to grab her phone off the nightstand and her hand encountered nothing. She carefully opened one eye, swearing at the piercing beam of light and the malevolent angel who was hell-bent on torturing her this morning and looked for her phone. It wasn’t there. Neither was her nightstand. She sat up in a panic as she realized she wasn’t in her own bed.

She looked down at herself and did not recognize the shirt she was wearing. Grabbing a handful of the fabric, she gingerly sniffed it and sighed in relief when it smelled like laundry detergent rather than a man. _Okay_ , she thought, _that was one point in her favor_. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and pulled out the collar to the shirt. She opened one eye and looked down the gaping neckline. No bra, but still wearing knickers. _Not bad, not bad,_ she reassured herself. She touched the rainbow striped fabric of her thong and let out a huge breath. No obvious signs of unprotected sex.  _Okay, Layla, you might actually just survive._  Looking around the room, she spotted her clothes –  _neatly folded?_  – on a chair in the corner with her purse sitting next to them. Scrambling for her bag, she yanked out her mobile and almost vomited when she saw the time.  _10:49? Fuck!_

“Izzy!” she yelled, when the person she called in panic picked up.

“Layla, where the hell are you? Do you know how late you are?”

“I just woke up. You have got to cover for me.”

“I told Mr. Stick-up-his-arse that you had gotten food poisoning when we went out to dinner last night and you wouldn’t be in today. Where are you?”

“Okay, don’t freak out, but—“

“That’s  _never_  a good way to start a sentence.”

“I know, but,” she squeezed up her face and then squeaked in a rush, “Idon’tactuallyknowwhereIam.”

“WHAT?”

“Shut up! People are going to get suspicious!”

“What do you  _mean_  you don’t know where you are?”

“I mean I don’t know where I  _am_. I went to Brandini’s for a drink after work last night and apparently I had more than one and I woke up this morning in somebody else’s flat in somebody else’s shirt!”

“This is  _so_ unlike you.”

“I know! What do I do?”

“Oi, you think I have lots of experience with this?”

“Izzy, I’m not calling you a slut, but seriously, I can’t remember leaving with someone and I’m not sure if he is still here and the only reason I’m saying it’s a he is because this is a really big shirt because I can’t remember last night. Like, I remember having two drinks but two drinks doesn’t get me like this. What do I do?”

“Just a minute.” There was a long pause. “Okay, I borrowed an empty conference room. Open the door a little bit.”

Layla tiptoed over to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. She peered out. “It’s a hall.”

She could practically hear Izzy rolling her eyes. “Go down the hall and tell me what you see.”

Layla carefully opened the door, grimacing when it squeaked. She carefully crept down the hallway, trying to keep her footfalls silent on the dark wood flooring. She peeked around the corner. Richard was sitting on a sofa with his bare feet stretched out on the table in front of him. He was wearing a faded t-shirt and jeans and the stubble on his face made a convincing argument that he hadn’t shaved that morning. He was reading a book, the sunlight streaming in the windows behind him giving him a sort of otherworldly aura. He looked up and smiled when he saw her. “Good morning. I was wondering when I was going to see you.”

Layla’s eyes grew wide in recognition, and she made a high pitched strangled sound deep in her throat and then ran back down the hallway and slammed the door behind her.

“Layla, what is going on?”

“Izzy, you’re not going to believe this.” She slumped against the door and slid to the floor.

“I’m not going to believe what?”

“It’s Richard Armitage.”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“No! It’s Richard fucking Armitage. Oh god,” she said in horror, “oh, it’s starting to come back to me.”

“What is?”

“Last night.” Layla put a hand over her face in embarrassment. “I think I called him a jerk and then asked him how big his penis was.”

This pronouncement was greeted with uproarious laughter.

“Shut up, Izzy, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, you are so wrong, sweet Layla. This is the funniest thing you have ever done in your _life_.”

“What am I going to do?” she wailed.

Izzy was still giggling. “Go say good morning. Wait, do you remember anything about the sex?”

“No!”

“Hmmm, that’s not a good sign.” Izzy sounded disappointed.

“Goodbye, Izzy!”

“Ask him for his autograph!”

Layla hit the red end button with more force than was absolutely necessary. She took a deep breath.  _Okay self,_  she thought, _we got ourselves into this mess, we can get ourselves out of this mess. First, clothes._

She quickly got dressed in her clothes from the previous day. The only other door in the room led into a closet so she peered out into the hall again. Hoping the door directly opposite would be a loo, she opened it and sighed in relief. A few minutes later, her face washed and makeup newly applied, her hair braided back out of her face and her teeth scrubbed with her finger, she felt slightly more up to facing the large man in the other room.

She walked quietly down the hall, her heels dangling from one hand and her purse in a death-grip in the other. She peered around the corner and Richard looked up at her again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeeesss?” she said warily.

“Can I get you some coffee or breakfast? You don’t have to hurry off on my account.” He stood and closed the curtains in the room. “And that probably will help with those pain lines around your eyes,” he said as the room darkened.

She smiled in relief. “That is nicer. But you don’t need to trouble yourself over me. I’ll just go.”

“Please, at least have a cup of coffee before you depart?” He smiled at her again and she felt herself giving in to those big blue eyes.

“Okay.”

She stood awkwardly in his living room while he went and got coffee. He came back with two large mugs. “I made a fresh pot when you ventured out of your room the first time.”

She smiled as she took the mug from him, being very careful not to touch his fingers. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

He handed her a few white tablets. “And some paracetamol. I’m imagining you have a pretty massive headache right about now.”

She nodded as she took the pills from him. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

He sat back down on the sofa. “Come sit down. You’ll make me feel awkward if you don’t.”

She perched uneasily on the edge of the sofa at the other end and sipped her coffee.  _Damn, this is good._

He regarded her over the edge of his mug. She was studiously looking at anything but him which gave him time to watch her and the way she kept nervously tugging at the hem of her tight skirt that ended just above her knees, or how she kept trying to tuck that one escaping curl of hair back into the braid.

“So,” he finally said, “I’m guessing that by the surprised look on your face when you ventured out of the guest room this morning you don’t remember a lot of what happened last night.”

She practically snapped her neck she turned to look at him so fast. “Guest room? So we didn’t…” she trailed off and waved her fingers at him in a vague manner.

He laughed, a rumbling sound from deep in his chest. “Oh no. No, no, no…” He stopped when her face took on a slightly insulted look. “Not that I wouldn’t want…You’re lovely and…” He stopped, cleared his throat and then continued. “I prefer that my partners can legally consent to sex, and you were nowhere near able to do that last night.”

She blushed so bright her freckles were pale in comparison. “Oh. Yes. Last night was not my best night. I remember pieces of it. Deeply humiliating pieces of it and I apologize to you and anyone else I subjected to my rantings.” She looked at him in concern. “How many other people did I question about their genitalia?”

He laughed again. “Just me, as far as I know.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’m normally not like that.”

“Pity. I thought it was charming and refreshing.”

“Really?” She looked at him askance.

“It’s been a while since I have had a beautiful woman treat me like a normal person. I’ve missed it.” He noticed her flush when he called her beautiful.

“One final question, I guess. How did I end up here?”

He snickered. “You refused to give the cabbie your address because you didn’t want to end up dead in an episode of  _Sherlock_.”

Her jaw dropped a little. “You’re making that up.” It was as much a plea as a statement.

He shook his head. “Apparently at the time you thought it was safer to go home with a stranger.”

She covered her face with her hand, noting that this was becoming a frequent occurrence this morning. “I am never drinking again,” she muttered. She sighed deeply and stood. “Thank you for making sure I stayed safe in my stupidity. I could be facing a lot worse this morning than a hangover and a delicious cup of coffee.”

He stood up and watched her slip on her high heels. He admired what they did to her form, showing off her long legs and shifting her posture so her hips were more prominent. “Let me walk you to the door.”

She followed behind him, and he paused when his hand was on the doorknob. “There’s one more thing I was wondering, Layla.” He turned to face her, the hallway crowding them together enough that he could feel her breath against his neck. “Last night you complained that you hadn’t been properly fucked in a very long time. I was wondering,” and the slight drawl on that word made it evident that he had been up much of the night thinking about this, “if I could take you to dinner tonight and give you the chance to see if you would be comfortable with me being the one to rectify that tragic situation?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of her as she looked up him, her eyes widening in surprise. He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed his lips softly against hers. “Please?” he whispered.

She nodded, so surprised that she had completely lost the ability to speak.

“Until tonight, then, Layla.”

She wordlessly opened her purse, pulled out a notepad, scrawled her number and address on it and handed it to him.

“I’ll come pick you up at eight.”

She nodded again, her eyes still wider than normal, though a smile seemed to be replacing the shock. He kissed her once more, firmer this time and she managed to kiss him back, her full lips soft and plush under his mouth. He pulled away and smiled as he opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Layla had been with Joshua so long she couldn’t remember the last time she had purchased ‘fuck me’ lingerie and there was no way she had time to do it now, not with the nap she had taken to sleep off the rest of her hangover. She’d drunk enough water to float the Queen Mary, taken three times the recommended dosage of B-vitamins and slept for five hours when she had gotten home. Now, came the most difficult decision in a single girl’s life: what to wear for an ‘I’m gonna get some tonight’ date.

She had never been so grateful for keeping a waxing appointment in her life as she was while sorting through her drawer of unders. She had undergone her monthly maintenance removal of all extraneous hair two days ago which meant she could wear pretty much anything she wanted, though she wondered how much Richard had already seen. She was not one to fold her clothes neatly at the best of times, and to do so while inebriated seemed highly unlikely, which argued he had been in the guest room at some point, though it could have been after she had already changed and gone to sleep. She was trying really hard to not think about the fact that he would definitely be seeing her naked tonight as long as things went well and that it was Richard fucking Armitage and who knew how many actresses and other perfect looking women he had slept with and  _Oh my god, Layla, knock it off._

Deep breath.

And then her hand hit a tissue-paper wrapped package in the bottom of the drawer and she smiled. She pulled it out, remembering when she had bought it six months ago to wear for a special occasion that Joshua hadn’t ever seemed to find time to have. She opened the tissue paper and smiled – it was as beautiful as she had remembered. Satin and lace the color and sheen of a mallard’s feathers formed a demi-cup bra that added a cup size and cheeky knickers that showed off her butt. Layla smiled as she tried them on and looked at herself in the mirror.  _I have an amazing ass._  It was her favorite part of her body and she did a lot of yoga to keep it looking this good.  _I’d tell Joshua he could kiss my ass, but it’s too good for him. Hmmm, I wonder if Richard will spank my…Snap out of it, Layla, and go put some clothes on._

And then for something to wear over the top. She went to her closet.  _Ugly. Ugly. Last season. Maybe. Absolutely not. When did I buy that?_ Why _did I buy that? Possibility. Hell no. Ooooooh, yes._ She quickly threw on the outfit and looked at herself in the mirror. Amethyst sequined sleeveless blouse with a deep scoop and a fitted waist that flared out over her hips and a tight black just above the knee skirt.  _Elegant, but fuckable. 10/10, would bang._ She smiled at her reflection.  _I should take a selfie and sent it to Joshua. Jerk._

Hair pulled back and loosely up, smoky eye, neutral lip, open toed heels to show off my pedicure,  _Damn, I scheduled that spa-day serendipitously. Is that even a word? Serendipitously? Hell, if not, I’m still going to use it, because I am going to get fucked in a serendipitous manner tonight._

She looked at the clock. Half an hour until he was supposed to arrive.  _Oh good, that means I can hyperventilate for the next twenty-five minutes._ She opened her laptop, resolutely ignoring all of Joshua’s belongings scattered around the flat, and queued up an episode of _Misfits_ to pass the time. Before she knew it, there was a knock at the door.

She opened the door and took one look at Richard. “Damn.” Her eyes flew open wide as she slapped a hand across her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

He laughed. “Have you been drinking again?” he teased, as he handed her a paper wrapped bouquet of peonies in a dozen shades of pink.

“No! You just look…very handsome,” she looked down at the flowers in her hands, “and these are beautiful. Why don’t you come in while I put these in water?”

She went in to the kitchen and it was now Richard’s turn to stand awkwardly in the middle of a stranger’s living room except he wasn’t awkward. He looked around at the space curiously and was drawn to her bookshelf. He had often found that a person’s bookshelf could tell you much about a person. The top several shelves were stuffed with books about bugs, displays of exotic and strange insects mounted under glass, and tucked mostly behind one particularly impressive butterfly was a photo of Layla. He pulled it out and saw that it was actually a photo of Layla and a man he assumed was her ex-boyfriend at an outdoor wedding. Layla was lovely, which he was starting to assume was her default setting, while he looked like he had spent the last six weeks in a jungle and the look on his face clearly said that he had only taken a shower as a bare courtesy to the oppressive cultural norms of western civilization. They looked like a complete mismatch.

Layla came back into the room still holding the flowers and he put the picture back. “I don’t seem to own a vase.” She went over to a desk in the corner covered with an antiques store worth of flotsam and picked up what appeared to be a fish bowl. “He used this to raise praying mantids.” She took it back in the kitchen and came out a minute later with the flowers beautifully arranged in the bowl and set them on the coffee table. She looked at them with a smile on her face and then smiled up at Richard. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

He tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “I’m starting to think that there are too many things that you have gone without for far too long.” His fingers lingered on her cheek for longer than was strictly necessary. She blinked, surprised by the intensity of the way he looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time, and then licked her lips nervously.

 _Nope, nope, nope, not having feelings, this is just going to be a fun night of revenge rebound sex. The heart is not welcome to join in the festivities,_ Layla reminded herself.  _But god he looks amazing in that suit._

She smiled cheerily, trying to stamp down the sudden surge of emotions that she refused to give a name to. “Shall we go?”

He helped her on with her coat, and then helped her into his auto and shut the door behind her.  _Of course, he’s a perfect gentleman to boot. Okay, Layla, start looking for flaws or you’re going to get yourself in trouble here._

When he turned on the ignition, the car was filled with beautiful cello music. “Are these the Yo-Yo Ma recordings of the Bach cello suites?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You recognize them?”

“I played cello all the way through university. I would love to see him perform live some time, especially if he were to play Bach.”

He nodded in agreement as he pulled the car out into traffic. “I played cello, too. It’s a beautiful instrument. I’ve always thought it most closely resembles the human voice out of any instrument.”

“I wish I still played. It’s been so long I’ve lost my fingering calluses.”

She heard him bite back a sharp laugh. “What’s so funny, sir? Having a naughty thought?” She could tell by the wicked look in his eye that he was.

“I was just thinking that my calluses now are more from swords than a bow, and the pun made me laugh.”

She laughed. “And it was just the word play that you found humorous?” She looked at him with a grin on her face, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.

“And that sword calluses will probably be just fine for the kind of fingering I plan on doing tonight.”

She felt a hot tingling rush of energy wash over her chest and up to her face at his words delivered in a voice like wet velvet over gravel. She stared at him, her mouth a little bit agape for several long seconds.

“Do you do that on purpose? Like, do you  _know_  the effect your voice has on women?”

A devilish grin was his only reply.

“I do not think that is playing fair. That voice should be banned under international law as a weapon of mass knickers destruction.”

“It is your fault, you know.”

“How is  _that_  voice  _my_  fault?”

“Well, you did say you wanted to be properly fucked.” They were at a stoplight and he turned to look at her. “For me, that starts hours before we enter the bedroom. My plan is to have you squirming in your seat at dinner and every nerve in your body on fire by the time I get you back to my place this evening so that my slightest touch will send you over the edge for the first of the many orgasms you are going to have tonight.” The light shifted to green and he turned his attention back to the road.

Layla sat there in stunned silence. Finally, when she recovered her power of speech, she said, “It should seriously be illegal for you to talk like that,” and then she laughed.  _But you could totally lock me in that jail and throw away the key._

“Give me your hand,” he said.

She held it out tentatively. “What are you going to do with it?”

He took it in his. “Just hold it.” He rested it on his thigh and placed his hand over it. “So, Layla, tell me more about yourself.”

“Well,” she bit her bottom lip, “I’m 27. I work in the fashion section at Marie Claire magazine. I’m hoping to work my way up to assistant editor in the next few years. It’s not a super serious job, like saving endangered species in the Sumatran forest or something, but I enjoy it.”

“What made you go into fashion journalism?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“That’s a difficult promise to make around you, but I’ll try.”

“Barbies,” she whispered.

“Really?”

She nodded, her cheeks pricking with color. “I had a ton of them growing up, and I would put on fashion shows and narrate them in over-the-top detail about all their fabulous clothes. I’ve always had an eye for what works and combining clothes in different ways, so I got my degree in journalism and worked at fashion mags for internships and here I am.” She eyed him to see how he was reacting.

“I have to admit I don’t know a lot about fashion, but you have looked amazing both times I’ve seen you, so you must be doing something right.”

She smiled. “And I don’t know who your tailor is, but you owe him a bonus.”

“How do you know I have a tailor?”

“Honey, I know bespoke when I see it. I can read clothes the way you read a script. Besides, off-the-rack does not fit that well on a man of your build.”

“My build?” He shot her a questioning glance.

“Yes. Your shoulder to waist ratio is disproportionately high and you have very muscular legs.” She lightly squeezed the thigh under her hand.

“So, that’s a good thing then?”

“Seriously?” She looked surprised at the note of doubt in his voice. “Oh my god, yes. You have an amazing body.” She put a hand over her face. “That came out a lot creepier sounding than it was supposed to.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll be a lot less shy about being naked in front of you now.” His laugh was contagious and she smiled back at him.

“Somehow shy doesn’t exactly spring to mind to describe you.”

“How would you describe me?”

“After knowing you for less than a day? Kind. Funny. Sexy.”

“I can live with that.”

“And how would you describe me?” she asked.

“A free-spirit. Sophisticated. Neglected.”

“Neglected?” He could hear the hurt in her voice.

“It is a societal failure of the highest order that a woman as beautiful as you doesn’t have need for a dozen vases.”

She was still staring at him in wonderment when the valet opened the door to the car. They had arrived at the restaurant.

She took Richard’s proffered arm as they walked into the restaurant, and as he helped her slip off her coat, he brushed his lips along the side of her neck. “Remember, my goal is to have you squirming before you’re done with dinner,” he whispered against her ear.

The raw desire in his voice made her eyes flutter shut and a small shuddering gasp masqueraded as her breath. After a few seconds, she looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes. “I’m going to have problems walking to the table if you keep that up.”

He put his hand on the small of her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.”

She knew color theory like the back of her own hand and she knew blue was a cool color, but looking into the deep blue of his eyes she felt like she was on fire. “Somehow, I believe you.”

The hostess escorted them across the restaurant, past the linen clad tables in the center of the floor to one of the leather high backed banquettes that circled the perimeter. Richard placed his hand on her lower back to escort her.  Even through the fabric of her blouse, his touch was electric – she hadn’t been expecting him to escort her, hadn’t been prepared for this touch – but his calloused fingers were gentle and gentlemanly.  

The deeply padded bench wrapped around a table just big enough for two, creating a bubble of seclusion that invisibly shielded them from the other diners. Once they were ensconced in their booth, they both looked at each other, slightly awkward first date energy suddenly washing over both of them for the first time that night. Layla started giggling. “So, Mr. Armitage, come here often?”

He smiled back, her laughter infectious. “Actually, I’ve never been here before. What do you think?” She looked around at the opulent setting. “It’s very impressive.” She looked back at him, “I haven’t gotten this dressed up for a date in,” she paused and he watched her eyes flicker as she thought back, “years.”

She paused as their server set the first course of the prix fixe menu in front of them. “An amuse bouche, wild mushroom and carmelized sweet onion with ricotta steamed in a ravioli and served with a black truffle oil broth.”

She looked down at the dish. The ravioli was nestled in a spoon that she thought would have been at home in a bowl of egg drop soup. It floated in a clear broth with a dark drizzle of oil over the top.

Layla looked back up at him. “It certainly looks beautiful.” They both picked up their spoons and with a look at each other, both tasted it at the same time. Layla took a sip of the broth and then slid the ravioli into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Mmmmm.” The sound was almost inaudible as the ravioli dissolved on her tongue and her senses were assailed by the earthy sweetness of the filling. Richard heard her though, and was thoroughly distracted by her evident enjoyment of the morsel. She let out a little sound of pleasure as her eyes opened. She saw him watching her with a smile on his face. “I think I enjoyed hearing you eat that almost as much as you enjoyed eating it.”

She smiled at him embarrassedly. “That was the best thing I have ever eaten in London.”

The evening progressed over delicious food, amazing wine pairings and non-stop conversation. There were no awkward lulls as they discussed music, books, movies and swapped stories from their lives. She told him about getting lost in Buenos Aires by herself on vacation when she was eighteen and he told her some of the more amusing behind-the-scenes stories from filming, including a late-night drinking contest between the thirteen dwarves that had her crying she was laughing so hard.

The sexual tension was never far away though. She would watch, mesmerized, as his lips slid along the tines of his fork. His thumb would draw lazy circles on the back of her hand between courses. As they slid closer and closer to each other over the course of the evening, his hand finally ended up on her thigh, the tips of his long fingers curling around the hem of her skirt and rubbing teasingly over the soft skin underneath. As they lingered over dessert and coffee, her skirt crept further and further up her thighs under the slow and steady advance of his hand. She was struggling to keep up her end of the conversation as he gently coaxed her thighs to spread another inch apart and he slid his hand between them and squeezed her inner thigh. He watched with a satisfied smile on his face as she dropped her fork when he brushed the edge of his smallest finger against the damp fabric of her knickers.

“Ready to go?” he whispered in her ear and she nodded, not daring to open her eyes and look at him. He waved for the waiter and within a few minutes they were back in his car speeding to Richard’s home. His hand took up its previous position between her legs and she slouched down helplessly in the seat, spreading her thighs for his explorations. There was no flirty banter this drive. Instead, Richard drove silently, one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the other stroking Layla through the wet satin and lace, teasing her clit with the slip-smooth drag of the wet fabric. He looked over at her while they were paused at a stop light and groaned at the sight of her, head thrown back, lips parted as the tip of her sweet pink tongue darted out to moisten them. She was lifting her hips, straining against the seat belt, desperately wanting to feel more of him, but he just kept up the teasing touches, loving the sound of her soft pleading moans.

When he parked his car, he quickly undid their safety belts. He pulled his hand from her and gripped her jaw and tilted her head so she was looking at him. He wanted to see her face as he slid his other hand under the elastic at the leg of her knickers. Stroking his fingers over the wetness coating her, he then pushed one long finger inside her. Her eyes widened with the intrusion and then fell shut as he pulled out and then slowly pushed it back in. He watched her respond to the slow and steady pace, her breasts heaving, her hips bucking up against the slow out and in and  _out_  and  _in_  of his hand.

He bent his head to hers and claimed her parted lips, slipping his tongue between them as he added a second finger to the first. He smiled against her lips as he felt her manicured nails dig into his thigh through the soft wool of his trousers.

“That’s right, Layla,” he pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed in a slow teasing circle, “I want you to come undone for me. I want to think of you coming on my hand every time I drive.” His skin rasped against her face as he whispered in her ear. “Be my sweet Layla and come for me, darling.” He bent his lips to the soft skin behind her ear and nipped it tenderly. She cried out and he did it again, harder this time, as he pushed a third finger into her slick heat, and smiled as she let out a keening cry of pleasure, her body convulsing as he kept stroking her, and then slowing the tempo of his fingers as her breathing slowly calmed. He pulled his fingers from her and watched her as he licked them clean. Her eyes were dark and almost closed, her hair coming undone, her lips and cheeks visibly flushed even in the dim light of the streetlamp.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “That’s one.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Richard helped her out of the car, and she shimmied her skirt back down around her hips as they hurried to the door. The instant it was shut behind them he pressed her up against the wall, his mouth covering hers as he cradled her head in his hands. He worked his fingers into her hair, searching for the pins and pulling them out until her hair fell freely about them.

Layla moaned deep in her throat as they kissed, tasting red wine and dark chocolate and coffee and something indescribably him. His lips were firm but his mouth was gentle, and he took his time to learn every dip and curve of her lips and tongue, all those places that she had forgotten had existed and she could feel the banked fires that had slumbered for the last year slowly being blown back to life as she remembered what it was like to have someone want to kiss her, to just  _want_ her.

She tugged at his tie, pulling it loose, the fashion writer in her noticing as it unraveled in her hands that he tied it with a full Windsor.  _Good man._ She let it hang loose around his neck as she felt for the button at his collar. She fumbled with it as Richard’s mouth worked its way down her chin and under her jaw. The contrast of his late evening scruff against the thin skin was almost unbearably arousing and she found herself squirming, her thighs clenching together and her hips instinctively moving to rub against his hard body as he took his sweet fucking time about kissing down her throat, biting and tugging and licking and sucking and all she could do was hold on to his shoulders as she found herself being held against him, one large hand in the center of her back, and the other curving over her ass and tugging her closer, setting the tempo for her needy grinding against him to a slow steady rhythm. “I am going to savor every inch of your skin, darling.” He mouthed the words against her collarbone. “You deserve to be adored.” Layla felt the very marrow in her bones dissolve as his bedrock-deep voice vibrated through her, but even as her knees weakened, he held her against him, not willing to relinquish the feel of her soft skin under his roving lips.

She finally managed to get the top two buttons of his shirt undone and she wrested control of her nervous system back for long enough to press her lips to the pulsing vein in his throat. She sucked at it for just a moment, not feeling like she had a right to leave a mark somewhere that visible, but desperately needing to feel his skin against her mouth. She flicked her tongue into the hollow at the base of his neck as she kept working at the buttons on his shirt, finally tugging it from his trousers and pushing it off of his shoulders, taking his coat and tie with it. The fabric gathered around his wrists, held in place by the shirt cuffs, gently restraining his hands. She smiled predatorily as she lowered her mouth to the newly exposed skin and gently bit his chest, a little humming laugh escaping as she felt the muscle shift under her teeth. She tugged at his nipple and then kissed it better and he hissed out a sigh at the warm wet touch. In one swift movement he shrugged his shirt back up on his shoulders and with a closed-lip smile quirking one corner of his mouth and a shake of his head he scooped her up and carried her down the hall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as she kicked her heels off, laughing at the echo as they hit the wooden floor.

Richard kicked the bedroom door shut behind them and put her on her feet at the side of the bed and stood a scant inch from her so she had to tilt her head up to see him. He watched her face as he undid his cufflinks and Layla felt like she was being hypnotized, the warmth radiating off his skin combined with the liquid heat coursing through her veins leaving her limp and relaxed, like she had spent the afternoon sunbathing. She had a sudden urge just to snuggle against his chest and sleep while he held her, until he oh-so-carefully removed her long dangling earrings and placed a kiss on each earlobe and then on the skin behind where the backing had rubbed against the delicate flesh. It was oddly intimate for such a small act. She had never had someone remove her jewelry before and it left her feeling oddly naked considering she was still fully clothed. He placed her earrings on his nightstand next to his cufflinks.

Richard cupped her cheek with his hand and tilted her face gently as he leaned in to kiss her again, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue and claiming it for himself. She put one hand over his heart, feeling its rapid beat against her palm, and with the other held on to his wrist, needing to feel anchored to him as her knees again threatened to give way again. She felt his watch against her hand and undid the buckle, breaking away from his kiss long enough to place her lips gently against the pulse in his wrist that was now uncovered before she placed his watch next to her earrings.

Layla ran her hands across his chest again, pushing his shirt to the side and as she shoved it off his shoulders, she stood on tiptoe to celebrate the retreat of his shirt with a parade of kisses across his skin. He watched her with a curious smile as she raked her fingers down his chest. “God, you have a nice chest.”

“Did you mean to say that out loud?”

She smiled as she ran her tongue slowly across his pectoral. “You’ll learn that I do a lot of things out loud in the bedroom.”

He bit his bottom lip as he groaned at the images those words put in his head.

“Oh, your suit coat!” She got distracted by the puddle of fabric around his feet. “I should hang it.”

“Ignore the coat, Layla.”

“It will wrin—“

“Layla, leave it alone.” His voice was rough, but it was with desire, not anger.

She looked up at him, surprised by the way her voice sounded on his tongue. She had never heard her name like that from anyone else, ever.

“Okay.” She blinked uncertainly.

“The last thing I care about right now is my suit.”

“What do you care about?” She felt suddenly unsure of herself.

“Right now, I want to see what your clothes look like on the floor with mine.”

She looked down, suddenly feeling shy, but she bit her lip as she smiled, a blush rising in her cheeks unexpectedly. She tilted her head to one side as she looked back up at him, and tapped her forefinger against her bottom lip consideringly. “Okay.” She practically giggled.

And then it was like the flood gates opened and within a minute her clothes were on the floor and so were his trousers and she pushed him back onto the bed. She knelt as his feet long enough to strip him of his socks and then looked up to see Richard propped up on his elbows watching her. He smiled when their eyes met and she grinned as she climbed up on the bed and straddled his hips, circumscribing a circle with her pelvis as she ground against his stiffening cock. “Oh, I am going to  _enjoy_  this.”

He reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Come here, sweet Layla.” He tugged her down to him and she braced her hands on either side of his head as their mouths came together again. She felt him undo her bra and sat up enough to pull it off and she tossed it off the bed. He palmed her breasts and her nipples instantly hardened.  _“So_ sensitive.” He flipped her onto her back and sucked one taut nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, while he rubbed his thumb against her other nipple. He tugged at her nipple with his teeth and she grabbed his head, slipping her fingers through his hair, holding him against her. She arched up as he bit harder and he slipped his free hand under her, arching her more, drawing her taut like a bow. Layla felt her head fall back, and realized she had completely given up control to this almost stranger. But he worshipped her body like an acolyte with the goddess incarnate and showed her the mysteries of her own religion. Who knew that the teasing brush of his fingers up her rib cage and over the outer swell of her breasts would leave her gasping for air? He did. And as he bit the soft skin where her breast gave way to her stomach  _Oh, Richard!_ she surrendered herself to his attentions.

He felt no compunction about not marking her and he sucked a mark onto her breast before laving it with his tongue. His hand slid over the front of her knickers and she parted her legs eagerly, craving his fingers again. “Sweet Layla, so needy.”

“Your voice is like an extra hand the way it touches me. It’s like a rain dance it gets me so soaking wet.”

He chuckled, deep and throaty, against her nipple and felt it harden even more. “I want you to be dripping, darling.” He pressed against her, the wet satin molding to every fold and crevice as he rubbed harder and teasingly pushed a fabric-covered fingertip inside her.

“Oh fuck, just take them off!”

His laugh was an aphrodisiac as he kissed his way down her stomach. He hooked his fingers into the green satin and tugged them down, kissing his way down her legs in their wake, the contrast of his warm mouth after the touch of the cool satin causing shivers to course across her body. He knelt at her feet and looked at her naked sprawled on his bed and shook his head slowly.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “What?”

“Your ex is an idiot of colossal proportions.”

Confusion flashed across her face. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have any idea of how lovely you are, do you?”

For once she had nothing to say.

“You are beautiful,” he kissed the inside of an ankle, “and sexy,” the inside of her other knee, his hands skimming along her legs, strong fingers stroking and caressing every inch of her skin not touched by his mouth, “and funny,” the flat of his tongue traced the delicate skin where her thigh joined her hip, “and you are oh,” and he started punctuating his words with kisses on her wet folds, “so,” another kiss, “sweet.” And he pressed the tip of his tongue against her, seeking out her clit.

It was like he was kissing her mouth all over again as he sought out every neglected and forgotten millimeter of skin with his tongue and  _oh, right there_  her hands grabbed at his head, desperate for more  _right there!_ She thrust her hips up, guiding him to that one spot and his tongue dipped and  _okay, maybe two,_  and he wrapped his arms around her thighs and grabbed her hips, his strong fingers splayed over her hipbones as he held her to the bed.

And then he backed off slightly and practically purred as he looked at her wet open pussy in front of him. “Oh, my darling Layla.” He slowly licked from bottom to top. “All mine.” His voice vibrated against her pussy and she twitched and he licked again harder, spreading her lips with his tongue. He started lapping at her clit teasingly, and she grabbed his hair.

“Oh, god, don’t stop that.”

He rolled his tongue against the sensitive little nub and she arched up off the bed, her nails scratching against his scalp. He sucked her clit between his lips, gently scraping his teeth against it, and then he slowly suckled it, the repeated motion of his lips and tongue  _oh so good!_  making her fight his hands to grind her hips against his mouth. He held her still, licking small lazy circles around her clit that left her whimpering, before sliding down and pressing his tongue against her entry, teasing it before latching on to her clit again, his stubble-roughened chin grinding against her. He took his time, making noises of enjoyment as he thoroughly explored and enjoyed her most delicate skin.

“Fuck, Richard,” she cried as his tongue thrummed against her clit. He moaned, and the sound vibrated through her clit, causing her to cry again. He scratched his dull nails against her hips before letting her go, and she started circling her hips with his tongue, begging for him to make her come. He pushed one finger slowly and deeply inside her and crooked it, beckoning to her orgasm. He stroked it in and out and she dug her nails into the sheets, grabbing a hold of anything she find to keep her from flying apart, but he pressed another finger inside and she gave up and let go and shattered, the heat coiled in her stomach exploding into stars.

He slowly licked her pussy, watching her quiver with each touch, her chest heaving with every gasping breath. As she relaxed, he finally sat back on his heels, wiping the slick from his chin. “That’s two.”

She beckoned to him with one finger and he crawled up her body, and she grabbed his face, bringing his head down to hers for a long deep kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

“Third time’s the charm? I think this one’s for you.”

He shook his head. “No, tonight is about you.”

“Together, then. I need to feel you come inside me.”

He nuzzled against her neck, his lips seeking out the spots that he had already found that he knew made her melt. “I’ll think about it,” he chuckled.

She pushed against his chest and he gave in to the smile on her face and let her push him onto his back. “I want to see what I get to play with tonight.” She smiled at him, a mischievous glint on her face, as she rubbed his cock through the tight cotton of his boxer briefs. He bucked against her hand before he could control himself and she grinned. She knelt next to him and bent over so her mouth hovered just over his straining erection and breathed, the moist heat of her breath the slightest teasing caress before she mouthed the hard ridge. She felt him grab a fistful of her hair and pull her head gently up and away from him. “Tonight’s about you, sweet Layla.”

She grinned at him and tugged his pants down, the grin on her face shifting to a look of surprise as his cock was freed from its restraints. “Damn.” She looked up at him. “And before you ask, yes, I meant to say that out loud.”

He laughed and tugged her back up his body for another kiss, wrapping his arms around her. Her lips were swollen and he tugged at them with his teeth, wanting to keep them engorged. He kissed down her neck again, leaving a path of small bite marks to record his passage and rolled her onto her back and spread her legs with his knees.

“Are you sure you want this?”

She blinked in surprise. “Yes.”

“If you want to stop, I’ll stop.”

“You beautiful man.” She clasped his face with both hands and pulled his head down to her. “I am very sure that I want this,” she whispered against his lips. She kissed him softly and he teased at her lips with his tongue and she yielded to him, not just her mouth but her body. There was the rub of his cock against her slick wetness and then him nudging against her and the look in his eyes as he asked her one more time, and then the sweet friction, silk against velvet as he pushed his hips forward. She groaned at the sensation of being forced open, her body stretching to accommodate him. She grabbed at his shoulders, her eyes wide as he started to slowly slide in and out, pushing slightly deeper with each thrust. She wrapped a leg around his hips and pressed up, inviting him deeper. He rested his head against her shoulder, trying to keep his self-control on a leash, as he slowly worked his way into her. He let out a deep breath as he felt her rock her hips upward against him, taking him deeper. He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes and she smiled at him. She wrapped her other leg around him and he started a slow steady rhythm, in and out and soon she was moving with him. She shut her eyes and her head fell back and he kissed her neck, rubbing his chin against her softness.

“Fuck, Layla, you are so incredibly tight.” He picked up the pace, the most ancient of dances with an in and an out and a thrust and faster this time and more  _in_ and  _out_ and  _thrust_ and now louder and she kept up with him and he knew that she was still humming from her last one so he started rubbing her clit with his thumb, wanting to push her over that edge as fast as possible. “Come for me, sweet Layla.” He hooked his arm under her leg, pushing it back and out, and he thrust even faster, the new angle letting him hit that sweet spot that had her stringing together profanity and blasphemy and his name into a prayer for release that he answered, and  _oh fuck yes, Richard, right there!_ scraping his thumbnail against her clit and giving her that little bit of extra heat that she needed to spark into flame once more.

He barely even let her calm before he pulled out and rolled her over onto her hands and knees, and then he was back inside her. He kneed her legs further apart, spreading her pussy apart so that he would be hitting her clit with each thrust. Again, he started slowly, his hands gripping her ass cheeks. “Damn, woman, they should sculpt you.” His appreciation was frank and graphic and he slapped one hand against her ass to admire his red handprint on her creamy skin. “You have the tightest pussy and the sweetest ass, darling.” He curled forward over her, pressing his chest to her back, wrapping an arm around her waist and locking them together. He grabbed her hair and pulled gently so her face was bent back towards him. “You are so beautiful like this,” he said, as he surveyed her face, with her flushed cheeks, mouth open and panting, eyes glazed. “So fucking hot.” She gasped softly and he smiled.

“Do you like that, my sweet Layla? Do you like it when I tell you how fucking hot you are?”

She nodded as she pushed back against him, forcing him deeper into her.

“You do, don’t you, darling. You like me telling you how much I love fucking your tight little pussy,” he thrust hard into her, forcing out her moan of agreement.

He bent forward and whispered in her ear. “You are such a naughty girl. A naughty girl with a fucking hot little pussy.” She cried out, arching against him helplessly.

“Do you want to come, naughty girl?”

Again she nodded, thrusting back even harder.

“Say please.” He slammed his hips against her.

“Please!”

“Please, what?” He thrust against her again.

“Please, Richard!” Her cry almost drowned out the sound of his body slapping against hers.

“Please,” thrust, “Richard,” thrust, “what?”  _thrust._

 _“Fuck,_ Richard! Please make me  _come!”_

Listening to her beg set his nerves on fire and he dug his hands into her hips holding her in place while he pounded into her. “Come for me, sweet Layla. Come my sweet naughty girl.” He slapped her hip once more and thrilled to the feel of her pussy convulsing around his cock, the tight wet heat milking his thrusting cock until he couldn’t help but spill his seed inside her body.

Slowly, slowly, they came back to each other, and he left soft kisses across her back until she turned to look at him, still panting for breath. He sprawled on the bed and pulled her against him, pillowing her head on his chest. He combed his fingers through her hair, smoothing it out into a halo around her. He brushed his lips against the top of her head. “Does that count as being properly fucked?”

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “Most definitely.”

He purred in satisfaction, his chest rumbling with the sound. “Good, I’m glad.”

He looked at her again a minute later and she was fast asleep. He reached for the blanket and pulled it over both of them and kissed her on her forehead once more before he fell asleep.

He woke in the middle of the night and rolled over, forgetting she was in his bed, and she stirred, shoving her hair out of her face. He smiled and kissed her softly and she melted beneath the unaccustomed gentle touch, sliding her arms around his neck hesitantly, unsure of the protocol for the weird situation in which she found herself. He pulled her closer, and she twined her legs around his, and they made love in the darkness without words, almost without sound, as their bodies said everything that needed to be communicated. It was quiet and tender and filled an aching need in her she hadn’t even realized she had possessed.

She woke as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the partially opened curtains. Richard lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm draped across her, his hand possessively cupping one of her breasts. She started the slow process of extricating herself without waking him, and several minutes later quietly sat up on the edge of the bed. Layla was about to stand when she heard him, voice roughened with sleep, say, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to head home so you could sleep in and enjoy your Saturday morning.”

Richard wrapped an arm firmly around her waist and she felt his lips brush against the small of her back. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

As he pulled her back into his arms and into his bed, Layla had one thought flash through her brain.  _Best. Breakup. Ever._


End file.
